The Montana farm I grew up on is wide open to the sky.
The wind flowed down from the Rockies in a cold, noisy stream. It poured into my ears and nose, unraveled my braids, and forced my eyelids shut. Sometimes my sister and brother and I challenged it, tying old sheets around our waists and grabbing the corners so that the cloth bellied out like sails. We’d get a few inches off the ground before the wind tore the sheets from our hands.
But more often, I escaped it.
The dry ditch alongside the caragana hedge was one haven. There was a whole sheltered world down there, roofed with bending grass stems that softened the wind’s howl and sliced the sky into manageable wedges. Sitting in the dirt, I was the benevolent giant – watching insects crawling through the grasses and listening to the birds.
I’m remembering that little world while I work on my new series, the “Teeny-Tiny ABC.” The paintings follow Annicka, who’s around two inches tall, and her animal and insect friends through the seasons. A-E are autumn paintings, but watch for a big change with F!
Happy holidays to you and yours. May you be sheltered from the cold winds in your own teeny-tiny worlds filled with warmth, light, and friendship.